


Sound the Alarm

by voices_in_my_head



Category: Spartacus Series (TV)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-07
Updated: 2013-04-07
Packaged: 2017-12-07 18:41:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/751758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/voices_in_my_head/pseuds/voices_in_my_head
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"He finally looked up when silence had been kept for some minutes. The Roman was smirking at him.</p><p>“Nasir, the little man from Syria. I like it.”"</p><p>Sort of AU where Nasir is a gladiator.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sound the Alarm

**Author's Note:**

> This is shorter than I was hoping and there's a lot in open, so I may come back to it one day but for now I think that it's okay. Like the summary says, it's sort of an AU where Nasir is a gladiator and OH DEAR GOD THERE'S JUST ONE MORE EPISODE ! HOW WILL WE SURVIVE ?????
> 
> *This is my first work in Spartacus' fandom so if you think the languange isn't correct and would like to Beta it, I would love to hear it. Thanks.

When Nasir enters the gates to his new home he sees all eyes on him. Still, the only thing he does is wait for his new dominus’ command.

Nasir was a gladiator for Rome for almost two years. He gained a reputation, mostly of being underestimated for being having the nickname of “little”. He can see that that reputation will have to be gained all over again.

Nobody expects him to be able to fight, much less to win. He was in Rome and he fought all the best but even there rumors of Capua’s champions arrived. The Celt, the Undefeated Gaul and now Spartacus, the Thracian that escaped death and defeated Theokoles.

In Rome there had been many conversations about the topic. The Romans were simply amused and of course filled of prayers to the gods while the gladiators where divided between wanting to have had that glory and mocking Theokoles, because if he was defeated by a simple Thracian then it was obvious he wasn’t the promised great warrior.

Nasir had just nodded along, but never shared his opinion. The truth was he just didn’t care. He was in Rome, why should he care about Capua and its gladiators?

Then his dominus started losing money and Nasir was sold to a new ludus, a new dominus; a new home. Well, the last one wasn’t really the truth. Two days after leaving Rome and he barely remembered his companions (never brothers; not in Rome) and as for family he had left it at Syria, except for a brother that had been lost years before to slavery.

In Rome, Nasir had asked around for him but none could give him answer and he soon learnt to let it go. Now, as much as he pretended not to, hopes were growing in his chest.

Of course he didn’t ask his dominus. The Romans could be… nice, but only for a price and the only thing Nasir had were his fighting skills. (And his body, but that was something that he refused to dwell on.)

“Doctore,” his dominus, Batiatus, calls, and a tall man with dark skin wearing a vest appears.

Nasir can see his eyes looking through him, but he does not return the favor. Just keeps his eyes on the other’s face.

“Nasir here,” he puts a hand on his shoulder and Nasir has to stop himself from flinching. It’s not that he doesn’t appreciate human contact, it’s just that he knows that that warm can very easily turn to whips on his flesh. (It wouldn’t be the first time.) “Was a gladiator in Rome. I have not yet seen him fight but I am promised that despised his size he is a great warrior. When he proves himself have him marked,” then just as easily he lets go and is gone.

“Which style do you fight?”

“Murmillo or hoplomachus,” he answers.

The doctore nods and calls for a spear to be given. Nasir wonders if he has chosen to start with that because he already has too many fighters in the murmillo style or if he expects Nasir to fail.

“Duro, Agron!” The doctore calls and two men appear.

They are both big (of course being bigger than Nasir isn’t very hard) but Nasir isn’t preoccupied. He once fought three men, all who had his weight in double, and came on top.

They fight in the murmillo style.

When Nasir has his hands on the spear everything disappears except the sand under his feet. After hearing the order to begin he loses all conscience to the real world and is lost to a world of fighting.

The men fight well, especially the bigger, but like every man Nasir has fought they do not expect him to be a real challenge, even if he did fight in Rome for two years. Maybe Capua’s gladiators have the same feelings for the Roman’s that the Roman’s have for them.

The smaller one is the first one to go down with a blow to the stomach and then it’s him and… Duro or Agron? Nasir doesn’t know and the wonder makes him stop for a second, enough for the man to hit him on the flank and he knows what’s going to come out of his mouth.

So Nasir ignores the pain and hits the man with his own fist on the face and then with the spear sends him crashing.

_(“You’re too little to be a real gladiator.”)_

There is silence all around him and Nasir looks around. He isn’t sure what the feelings of the gladiators are, but most seem amused and one, only a few inches bigger than him, is giving him a smile.

“You fight well, little man,” he hears behind him and looks to see the two men standing.

“You too,” he answers to the bigger one, the one that spoke.

“I’m Agron and this is Duro, my brother, from the lands of the east of the Rhine.”

“Nasir, from Syria.”

The two brothers share a look and there’s hope in Nasir’s chest. Maybe they know his brother.

Before he can say anything, ask questions that have lingered on his mind for months, years even, doctore tells him to fight Spartacus with a sword and a shield.

He notes with surprise that Spartacus was the man that smiled at him.

“Your victory over Theokoles, the shadow of Death, reached Rome,” he tells him, mostly curious to see the other’s reactions.

Every gladiator he knows would have shown pride at the mention of his victory but Spartacus shakes his head.

“I couldn’t have won without the aid of Crixus, the undefeated gaul.”

Nasir nods and starts to think that his time passed at Capua will be very interesting and he’s sure, filled with surprises.

“Begin.”

.

Nasir lost to Spartacus, but it was a good fight and he only nods to the bringer of rain, not feeling rage in the least.

He’s told to fight with the others in the style he preferred (he chose the spear) and at lunch is happy to note that nobody put anything on his soup (well, if it could be called soup, which he doubts, but he has eaten worse).

“I am told you come from our homeland,” he hears in Syrian and sees a man, almost as small as him, approach.

He had not seen the man on the sand before and he notes that he wears real clothes, not the garments Nasir and the others use.

“I am,” Nasir responds. He wants to grab him and ask about his brother but decides to wait.

The gladiators around are looking and he hears one, a bald man, say “not another”.

“My name is Ashur and I will be happy to assist you with whatever you need.”

“My brother, Dagan, he was captured by the Romans, years before. Have you heard of him?” He asks before he can stop himself.

Ashur seems surprised by the questions and even afraid. He looks around before he answers, “there was a Syrian gladiator by that name here, years ago. But he was killed in the arena, I am sorry to say.”

Nasir looks at his soup. It was what he expected but it still hurts to hear it.

“How?” he asks but when he looks up the other Syrian is already gone.

“I wouldn’t put my trust on him,” he hears beside him and looks to see Agron sitting on the bench.

“Why?”

“He’s the most traitorous fuck you’ll ever meet.”

“Because he’s a Syrian?” Nasir may sound angry, but really he’s just curious.

“No, it’s just who he is. I heard that when he arrived, he came with another Syrian and that he killed him in the arena before the other had a chance to put a sword on his back.”

Nasir feels cold. “Do you know his name?”

Agron looks surprised. “Ashur-“

“No, I mean, the Syrian he killed.”

Agron still looks surprised but this time he’s looking more closely at Nasir’s face. “It was before I got here. You should ask doctore.”

“Thank you, I will,” Nasir nods and goes back to eating but Agron doesn’t leave. Nasir wants to be left alone, to think, but he keeps silent. It would be a bad idea to send away what might be his only ally; since it’s becoming obvious Ashur obviously isn’t it.

Duro joins them before the meal is over and Nasir hears them speak; sometimes in Latin, others in their own language and in that moment he misses his brother more than he had in previous years.

Any other man on his place might feel jealous of Agron’s and Duro’s relationship and Nasir does feel it, but mostly he’s just happy that there is someone that still has his brother.

.

“You like him,” Duro tells him in their language and there’s amusement in his eyes, but also suspicion. Agron will admit that the men who have held his fancy weren’t the best.

He shrugs, not wanting to admit but also knowing that denying it would be lying to his brother, who would know it, anyway.

Agron feels a bit annoyed at that, knowing that his brother knew him so well but at the same time he remembers Nasir’s look when questioning about the dead Syrian.

They’re practicing and Agron is happy to see that his brother has gotten better.

“Your silence is answer enough,” Duro says and this time there’s only amusement there. Agron may hit him strongly than he would have otherwise.

Duro just laughs, “I think he likes you too.”

“You’re here to fight not to talk,” the doctore tells them and they immediately stop.

Agron still isn’t sure how he feels about the man with the dark skin but he knows that it would be a bad idea to get on his bad side.

At least now he doesn’t have to hear more of Duro’s words, even if they do not leave his mind.

.

Nasir has been in Batiatus’ ludus for two days when he finally gets the chance to speak with doctore.

“I was wondering if you had ever met my brother. He was a Syrian that went by the name of Dagan and couldn’t understand Latin,” he decides not to tell him that Ashur has already told him that he died.

The doctore looks at his for some time before he nods, “yes, I remember him. He died in the arena.”

“How?” Nasir asks before he can stop himself. He needs to know.

Again, the doctore looks at him before answering. “Ashur killed him.”

“Why?” Nasir wouldn’t be admired if by the end of this conversation the doctore decided to whip him. He was starting to annoy even himself with all these questions, but he just couldn’t stop.

He notices how Agron, who’s fighting with his brother, keeps stealing glances at him but now was not the time to entertain thoughts of the German and what those glances might mean.

“Ashur killed him,” the doctore tells him in a somber voice and Nasir has to control himself not to leave that moment to go look for the traitorous fuck. “Dagan was a better fighter and Ashur was jealous, so when the opportunity presented he killed him.”

Nasir is glad that the doctore keeps silent after his announcement, leaving him to gather his thoughts.

“Ashur may not be much of a man but if he were to die Batiatus would surely give punishment,” Nasir nods. He doesn’t know how he feels at the doctore’s announcement that he’s only worried about Nasir being punished and not the other Syrian dying by his hands. Maybe he just doesn’t want blood on his sand, at least blood not gained by sword.

“Thank you for your information,” Nasir says and leaves to return to fight with Rhaskos.

.

“You should just speak to him,” Duro says, this time in Latin and Agron sees how Donar smirks at him. Great, they all know of his infatuation with the little man.

He wants to tell his brother to shut up but that would only make him louder.

“He just found out his brother was killed by Ashur,” Crixus tells them and Agron would wonder why the Gaul’s giving them information but all his thoughts are turned towards Nasir, who is fighting Rhaskos.

All four of them stand looking at the man until the doctore makes his whip sound and then they go back to fighting, but Agron can’t keep his thoughts off the little man. At least his brother keeps silent.

.

It becomes obvious that everyone knows of his talk with the doctore by lunch time, when he keeps getting glances and the gladiators even nod to him. It’s even more obvious that the conversation has reached Ashur’s ears because the man does not appear before him. Smart choice.

Agron, like he has done every day, sits beside him to eat, this time without his brother, but he does not broach subject. He seems to want to break silence by words, but every time he opens his mouth nothing comes out.

Finally, when they’re almost finished Agron murmurs, “I’m sorry about your brother.”

Nasir looks at Agron and even though there’s pity there, mostly there’s understanding. He doesn’t know if that means that Agron had lost a brother or if it was just the fear of losing Duro. Still, Nasir nodded.

As response Agron gives him a small smile and then tells him a story of when he was young.

He keeps talking until lunch break is over and Nasir is more than glad to let the other’s voice wash over him.

.

It is almost a week later that he puts his feet on Capua’s arena for the first time.

He goes after Duro and while the younger man is passing him he looks into his eyes and tells him, “Agron likes you. If you survive this you should talk to him.”

If Nasir was a beginner he’s sure that his thoughts would have been occupied by his words but instead all he can think is that when it comes to fighting, being it in Rome or in Capua, it’s always the same. Blood and sand everywhere.

They only lost one gladiator that day so the night is filled with drinking and women. Agron takes him a glass and finally Nasir lets himself think on Duro’s words.

He had noticed that after Duro he was the person Agron spent more time with, but he had thought it was simple a brotherly bond (that’s not the truth, he just hadn’t let himself think of the possibilities of love).

“Duro talked to me,” he tells Agron and sees the German’s cheeks redden.

“What did he say?” Agron sounds as if he really doesn’t want to know but at the same time will die if he doesn’t hear the answer. His eyes linger on Nasir’s face for only a second, then leaving for his brother filled with rage, but at the same time love and the knowledge that no matter the words Duro said he will be forgiven.

Agron is a gladiator, but he also cares for his brother and for the other gladiators, some more than others, and he has never seemed a cruel man. Still, it’s for that look that Nasir smiles at him.

“I like you too.”

.

_Every gladiator has a nickname. Like their name it is not chosen by them but by their dominus or simply by a powerful Roman._

_Nasir saw with fear when the Roman, soon to become his dominus (and oh, how he despised that word), started listing off names to call him._

_He had stopped at Tiberius (was there any name more Roman than that?) when he had finally looked at Nasir. “What do you go by, little man?”_

_Nasir didn’t like being called little man, but he knew which battles to choose and which to let go. So he murmured his name._

_“What do you call homeland?” The Roman asked with a smirk for the slaves seller, like it was amusing to say the least having a home that not Rome._

_“Syria,” Nasir once again murmured. It wasn’t that he was afraid to look up to his soon to be master, but more that he was sure that he would punch the fucker the moment he saw the look he was sending him. It was a look he was well familiar._

_It was full of lust and rage, and most importantly, the Roman had no fear of showing it because Nasir was a simple slave; below dogs._

_He finally looked up when silence had been kept for some minutes. The Roman was smirking at him._

_“Nasir, the little man from Syria. I like it.”_

**Author's Note:**

> In case it's confusing the Roman at the end is not Batiatus, but the first dominus Nasir had.


End file.
